


Imprinted

by dokyun (kissthesea)



Category: VIXX
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissthesea/pseuds/dokyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taekwoon gets a tattoo; Wonsik gets obsessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imprinted

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ink Stains](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/28122) by a_dead_koala. 



> Written for kpop_ficmix@LJ.

Unpacked boxes littered the tile floor and the walls were still unpainted when Wonsik's first customer walked through the door. Wonsik was in the back, carefully inspecting his equipment to make sure the movers hadn't damaged anything. Nothing he owned was top of the line or even remotely expensive, but it was his. Wonsik maintained his tools with the same care he imagined a parent gave a child. The only place his machines showed wear were their handles from being held so many times.

There wasn't even a bell on the front door yet, so Wonsik had no idea he wasn't alone until he noticed a shadow in the doorway. He turned and blinked at his guest, who didn't say a word.

"In case you can't tell," Wonsik said with an ironic smile, gesturing around the clutter, "I'm not open yet."

A pair of dark eyes followed Wonsik's gesture, seeming to take in everything but showing no reaction to it. They turned back on Wonsik and stared for an uncomfortably long time before the stranger said, in a voice so quiet Wonsik had to strain to hear him, "I want a tattoo."

 

The weird guy turned out to be Jung Taekwoon, a clothing model who fit the requirements of his profession in every way possible. Long-limbed with a gracefully toned body and soft features, Taekwoon was by far one of the most attractive people Wonsik had ever met. Taekwoon's beauty was, frankly, startling, and for the first few days Wonsik found it annoyingly difficult to not stare when Taekwoon was leaning over, eyes trained on Wonsik's sketchbook. Being close with his customers was something that came with his trade, but Wonsik wasn't used to being so damn uncomfortable the entire time.

Gorgeous people were fucking inconvenient.

"No," Taekwoon mumbled for about the thousandth time since they'd started this hellish process. Wonsik wasn't even sure why he'd agreed to take on this commission except that Taekwoon was really fucking hot and Wonsik also happened to need money. The tattoo wasn't Wonsik's style; angels were too idealistic, too much a fantasy. Wonsik preferred raw reality and grit, but every time his art revealed an edge, Taekwoon frowned and told him to start over.

Taekwoon never stayed in the shop for long. He came by every night at exactly eleven o'clock, either having not noticed that Wonsik closed at eight or not caring. The time wasn't what bothered Wonsik as much as how Taekwoon would turn his nose up at every single sketch Wonsik had painstakingly created throughout the day just to show him. Taekwoon would then stay for around an hour while Wonsik tried to create something else, and then turn it down right before leaving. A few times Wonsik was tempted to tell Taekwoon to take a hike, but with all the boring flowers, hearts and names he tattooed during the day, there was something nice about having a challenge to mull over. And even if he had the social skills of a sulky rabbit, having Taekwoon wasn't all that bad, either. He was utterly different from anyone Wonsik had met, utterly different from what Wonsik had imagined a model would be like.

"Why the hell do you want something this big?" Wonsik asked randomly one night as his fingers traced the soft edge of a feather onto the paper. "Wouldn't that, y'know, affect your job?"

He didn't expect an answer; hanging out with Taekwoon for a week was enough to make Wonsik used to talking to himself with someone else in the room. He glanced over and Taekwoon's eyes were still focused on the paper. There were dark circles under his eyes even through his layers of BB cream.

"I want it to affect my job." Taekwoon's eyes slid lazily up to Wonsik's face, lingering just long enough to make Wonsik blush. A few minutes later Taekwoon was gone. Wonsik didn't know where Taekwoon lived or how he got home in the middle of the night, but he supposed that was none of his business.

Maybe that was why Taekwoon wanted wings; to fly anywhere, everywhere, without needing to tell anyone why.

 

Once they settled on the design, the work was supposed to be the easy part, which, technically, it was if only for the fact that Wonsik didn't have Taekwoon constantly watching him work. Unfortunately Taekwoon's work schedule made it impossible to coordinate a good time to complete the tattoo in one sitting- something this big took time, Wonsik explained again and again, while Taekwoon just continued to frown- so instead the work had to be broken down into small sessions. Taekwoon was willing to extend how long he stayed at the shop, still arriving around eleven o'clock but not leaving until three each night. The tricky part was being careful not to leave Taekwoon too sore or bruised in inconvenient areas. None of his modeling involved going shirtless, but he had to be able to change and change quickly with nothing unsightly peeking out. 

All in all, the project was becoming more and more of a pain in the ass.

Wonsik had no problem complaining openly and rather loudly the entire first night, too. Taekwoon came into the shop with a huge yawn and collapsed across Wonsik's table, clearly happy to be off his feet. Taekwoon's work for the day was done, and Wonsik's was starting. He got out his equipment and immediately started bitching about his day, a habit that he developed over time. One of the nice things about hanging out with a guy who barely was spoke was that Wonsik could say anything he wanted and as much as he wanted. Now and then Taekwoon became visibly annoyed, at which point he either smacked the back of Wonsik's head or went home. Their exchanges were easy and refreshingly simple.

That first night, Wonsik could feel the tension in Taekwoon's shoulders as the needle pierced his skin. He didn't need to look to know this was Taekwoon's first tattoo; he simply wasn't the type of guy who covered himself in ink. There was a select group of customers like Taekwoon whose first tattoo would also be their last, not because they actually decided they only needed one or because they didn't like the pain, but because their one tattoo would completely change who they were. The tattoo wasn't about expressing themselves or trying to show off. Taekwoon had a reason for wanting his wings, a reason Wonsik would probably never understand. And that was okay with him.

The tattooing lasted two weeks thanks to Taekwoon's schedule. Some nights had to be cut off early because Taekwoon fell asleep on the table. Other nights he showed up but was so exhausted he passed out on the couch in the lobby before Wonsik could even get him onto the table. Taekwoon staying the night became a new kind of normal. Wonsik was startled when he found he actually liked having someone around in the morning when he came stumbling down from his loft to take a shower in the back. 

But eventually the project had to come to an end. Taekwoon's wings took on a life of their own as Wonsik worked his way down Taekwoon's back. Feathers burst across the pale skin, seeming to flutter on their own when Taekwoon's muscles tensed. The wings took root just below Taekwoon's shoulder blades and sat just slightly folded, the tips pointing to his spine. A few of the larger feathers stretched to caress the inner sides of Taekwoon's rib cage and the very tips of the wings reached just below the small of his back. As he worked Wonsik was reminded of Buddhist monks in the southeast clasping their bamboo needles as their blessed works formed before their eyes. Wonsik's art could never be compared to something so old and beautiful, but working on Taekwoon's wings put him in a kind of trance. This wasn't something he felt giving his usual customers their tattoos. He felt proud and happy that his art could make people happy, but as the ink spread beneath Taekwoon's skin Wonsik swore tiny bits of himself were going with it, like he was becoming part of the tattoo as well.

When it was finally done, Wonsik felt spent and delirious. The designs were dancing before his eyes as Taekwoon groaned and rose from the table. He rolled his shoulders carefully and the newly tattooed skin twitched. For how much it must have hurt in parts and how damn long the process took, Wonsik was amazed that Taekwoon hadn't made a sound the entire time. If Wonsik asked a question, Taekwoon would reply with a nod or a shake of his head. The rest of the time, the shop was in total silence. Taekwoon looked just as exhausted, but offered Wonsik one of his rare small smiles. He stepped over to the full-length mirror Wonsik kept by the door to the lobby and turned to see the results. 

For a long time, the two of them just stared: Taekwoon at himself in the mirror, Wonsik at Taekwoon, for once uninterested in the tattoo. "It's beautiful," Taekwoon whispered. His eyes met Wonsik in the mirror, still smiling.

"If you'd said anything else I would have punched you," Wonsik grumbled back. The strange spell was broken and he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was very tempted to grab a beer from his fridge in the back and even more tempted to offer Taekwoon one. Taekwoon's shirt was draped over Wonsik's chair, but he blocked Taekwoon's hand from grabbing. "Not yet," he said, not meaning it to be as much of an order as it sounded. "You should stay tonight. It's late."

An embarrassed smile pulled at his lips because it was an unspoken rule at this point that Taekwoon just stayed; Taekwoon never asked if it was okay and Wonsik certainly never invited him. Taekwoon met Wonsik's eyes with an amused kind of surprise. "Okay," he replied after a moment. Wonsik's smile grew as he crossed the space between them, grabbing Taekwoon by the belt loops as their mouths crashed together.

 

Nothing much changed after Taekwoon's tattoo was finished. Now and then Wonsik would ask what Taekwoon was going to do now, and Taekwoon would give him a little smile and shake his head. Wonsik knew something was coming, but seeing as it didn't seem to be coming too soon, Wonsik wasn't going to worry himself about it.

Frankly, all that mattered to him was that Taekwoon still came around.

On a whim, at the end of one of those nights when it was too late for Taekwoon to back to his apartment, Wonsik decided he wanted his ear pierced. The two of them lounged in the lobby of the shop because the loft seemed too far, no matter how tempting the bed may be. Taekwoon's long legs were slung over the side of the couch. Wonsik stretched across the tiled floor and announced his decision as soon as it occurred to him.

"I don't know how," Taekwoon replied with just a hint of scolding.

But Wonsik was already gathering the supplies. Sure, he had his own guy to do this during the day anytime he felt like, but he didn't just want a piercing. He wanted Taekwoon to pierce him. Not that he had the guts to say such weird shit out loud.

Wonsik could feel Taekwoon watching as he cleaned first his earlobe, then went about disinfecting the needle. He probably could have done the whole thing by himself, without a mirror, even, but that would ruin the point. Grinning, he turned and held out the needle to Taekwoon. 

"I'm serious," he insisted when Taekwoon just stared at him.

Gingerly, Taekwoon accepted the needle. "No gloves?"

"You dirty?" Wonsik laughed and waved off Taekwoon's concern. "This isn't surgery."

Taekwoon shrugged and sat up, much to Wonsik's surprise. Getting Taekwoon to do anything he didn't want to was usually a real chore, one which Wonsik chose not to bother with. Either Taekwoon was feeling rather agreeable tonight or something about the idea appealed to him. Judging from the way Taekwoon stared at the needle in his hand, turning it in his fingers, Wonsik assumed the latter. The subtle gleam in Taekwoon's eyes made Wonsik shiver.

"We have more sophisticated equipment for this, but that's for customers," Wonsik rambled as he settled down at Taekwoon's feet. He leaned against Taekwoon's knees and smiled up at him and the needle. "This is simpler anyway."

The tip of the needle pressed into the flesh of Wonsik's lobe. It was just enough pain to make him tense, and then he shook it off and forced himself to relax because this was supposed to be his business. A tattoo artist shouldn't flinch at a needle. At least he knew his reaction was because Taekwoon was the one doing it. Not because Taekwoon was inexperienced, though that may have been the more reasonable explanation. Since finishing Taekwoon's tattoo, more had changed between them than the fact that they were now sleeping together. Wonsik felt like he'd lost something important in the process, like a big piece of himself detached and sealed itself beneath Taekwoon's skin with all of that ink. His center of gravity felt off; he almost felt like he could feel Taekwoon's presence in the room when they were together. Wonsik was somehow irrevocably joined to Taekwoon in a way that wasn't physical. 

Some might find that romantic; Wonsik found it disconcerting and uncomfortable as hell.

But he couldn't deny that he liked it, too. He liked being around Taekwoon. He liked running his hands over Taekwoon's skin, even the parts that weren't tattooed, though there was a special feeling that came with touching Taekwoon's wings. The muscles beneath Taekwoon's skin would tense and the skin felt somehow warmer than the rest of him. He couldn't help but believe Taekwoon felt the same, too, though they never talked about it. It was just a look in Taekwoon's eyes when Wonsik was touching him, a soft, comfortable light that made Wonsik feel warm all over, and that was all the reassurance Wonsik needed.

"Just do it already," Wonsik grumbled. Above, Taekwoon laughed softly and suddenly the needle drove through Wonsik's ear. He hissed slightly but, as he expected, the pain was brief. He replaced the needle with a stud earring he'd taken from his supply and cleaned around the new piercing, humming as he worked.

Taekwoon slid down to join Wonsik on the floor and took the needle from Wonsik, turning it in his fingers. "No blood?"

Wonsik shrugged. "Ear piercings don't bleed. Not unless you really fuck it up." The look of disappointment on Taekwoon's face made Wonsik balk. "You some kind of sadist? Want to make me blood?"

A wicked little smile and Taekwoon nodded. "Just a little." Before Wonsik could respond, Taekwoon shoved him over, his hands sliding up Wonsik's shirt. "What about here?" he asked quietly, pinching Wonsik's nipple with his free hand. "Would it bleed?"

The pinch made him hiss and jerk. The gleam in Taekwoon's eyes was enough to make Wonsik very, very nervous, but it was causing other strange reactions as well. "Yes, that would bleed," he replied breathlessly as he felt himself hardening against Taekwoon's hip.

Taekwoon hummed quietly and pushed Wonsik's shirt up until it was practically covering his eyes. Wonsik grumbled and started to argue, and then he felt a sudden sharp pain in his left nipple and he yelped. He wanted to shove Taekwoon off and punch him or something remotely normal, but instead the pain went straight to his cock and he arched against Taekwoon, moaning far more loudly than he would have liked. Panting, he yanked the shirt the rest of the way off because that seemed to be the only way to assess the damage with Taekwoon holding him down. He looked and groaned as a thin stream of blood was starting to run down his chest. Taekwoon still held the needle, turning it in his fingers as he stared at his work. "You are fucking insane," Wonsik wheezed. 

If Taekwoon heard, he didn't show it or feel the need to reply. His eyes were trained on the blood as it slowly made its way along Wonsik's skin. When it finally stopped and started to pool near Wonsik's ribs, Taekwoon leaned down and, very carefully, licked the spot. Once he started, he didn't stop, his tongue tracing the path of blood until he returned to Wonsik's abused nipple, circling it a few times before Taekwoon's mouth closed around it and sucked, hard. This time Wonsik arched clear off the floor in a disturbing mix of pain, pleasure and downright shock. Realistically speaking, Wonsik didn't know much about Taekwoon at all, but he thought he knew enough to stop being quite this surprised. Apparently he was very, very wrong.

Judging by the almost silent gasp, Taekwoon was equally surprised when Wonsik flipped them over. Taekwoon grunted as his back hit the floor, but he was smiling when Wonsik leaned back in for a rough, searing kiss. This time it was Taekwoon's hips that rose off the floor as he rubbed himself against the knee Wonsik jammed between Taekwoon's thighs. 

"Bed?" Taekwoon whispered against Wonsik's mouth.

"Fuck no."

 

Even if he knew well in advance, with Taekwoon running around to numerous shoots and meetings and the like and Taekwoon unusually talkative during their nights in Wonsik's shop, Wonsik wasn't at all prepared when everything changed. The buzzing excitement that practically radiated from Taekwoon as each day passed made him smile, but Wonsik couldn't grasp at the time what was about to happen. How monumentally different their lives were about to become.

Taekwoon showed Wonsik the photos before they were released. On the small, glossy pieces of paper, the images appeared so simple. Taekwoon stood with his back to the camera. He was barefoot and wearing only a simple pair of jeans which road just low enough to show the full extent of his tattoo. His wings practically leaped off their page, the lighting illuminating the ink to its fullest potential. The quality of the shots was top-notch, and Wonsik nodded at them in approval.

"Very nice," he admitted and tried to pull Taekwoon in for a kiss.

Taekwoon stepped away and frowned slightly. "You really don't understand, do you?"

And then it happened, and it was like Wonsik woke up one day and the entire world was watching. On the television, there was Taekwoon. In all of the magazines, there was Taekwoon. In the papers and all over the internet and even on the billboards outside Wonsik's shop, there was Taekwoon. And not just Taekwoon; in every photo and every commercial and every mentioning of Taekwoon's name, there was the tattoo, and, in tiny print, Wonsik's name.

When he noticed his name, Wonsik didn't think anything of it. Giving credit to the artist was normal. And then the phones started ringing.

 

Three weeks later, Taekwoon returned to the shop. Those three weeks had been the busiest of Wonsik's entire life. Every minute of every day was scheduled, with customers coming out of the woodwork from places Wonsik hadn't even heard of. International customers were scheduling tattoos months in advance and planning trips to Korea entirely around Wonsik's schedule. Local customers were vying for Wonsik's time to the point of some slots getting auctioned off to the highest bidder. Wonsik didn't like it, so most of the time his schedule was first come, first serve. He hired three new employees just to handle the scheduling and two new girls to handle piercings and every night he went home with another tattoo to plan. While none of it was as exciting as Taekwoon's project had been, Wonsik was pleased that he was getting more and more creative commissions now that his clientele was changing. He was making more money than he could have ever imagined, and, under any other circumstances, Wonsik would have been ecastatic.

Except that Taekwoon disappeared the second things got serious. His cell was no longer in service and Wonsik didn't even know where Taekwoon lived. He could see Taekwoon on television as the media grasped desperately at every opportunity to follow their new star around, but the Taekwoon on television and in the magazines wasn't the one Wonsik wanted to see. It wasn't a Taekwoon he could talk to, touch or kiss. That Taekwoon didn't belong to him.

As the days turned into weeks, Wonsik started to kick himself for even believing any part of Taekwoon had belonged to him. The tattoo was everywhere now with all the world to see it. This had been Taekwoon plan all along, after all. Wonsik knew that Taekwoon's wings were meant to take him to entirely different places. Perhaps those places just didn't include Wonsik.

Taekwoon returned to the shop at three in the morning. Wonsik was asleep, but that didn't stop him from recognizing the familiar tapping on the glass. He stumbled out of bed and down from his loft and, sure enough, Taekwoon's eyes peered at him from underneath a dark sweat jacket's hood.

As the door quietly chimed open, Taekwoon smiled. "Miss me?"


End file.
